It’s noon on Father’s Day and somewhere a father is likely on his 3rd drink of the day. He is probably wondering what happened to cause the severance, though in searching through bottles doesn’t understand how he perpetuates his own problems.
I have been treated to the first use of the bathroom this morning, breakfast, nookie, and we are trying to wrangle the kids out the door for superheroes day. Amidst fussing and griping, Kim suggests we bail on our plans and just take them to the park. My patience is thin and besides that, I’m in a horrible funk.
So, what the funk? Being broke. Putting off work while bills pile up. Mostly, that I struggle so hard and come every holiday lately, I’m too broke to really do anything. Now, I’m thrifty and young kids are still pretty amazed by just about anything. It’s not that there’s nothing to do in a city for free. It’s that a journey to the children’s museum shouldn’t be a damn Survivor style expedition. It’s that as I watch my household diverge stealthily into chaos, I see a ubiquitous pattern and the realization that this is why we can’t do nice things.
I want to yell at the child to stop ruining every special occasion with her attitude. I instead have to reinforce her mother’s threat because she clearly didn’t listen to it from the source. I’m already tired. I’m tired of all the bickering. It wasn’t a large amount of it, but it did get every last one of us upset.
About the time the children have shoes on and are ready to go, Kim has to make a second coffee. I try not to look at the clock with dismay, but it’s coming up hot onto 1pm and half the day is already gone.
Kim had asked me what I wanted to do. I didn’t have a socially acceptable answer. If I had any money for gas, I would have taken my son for a day to ourselves. I wish now that we would have. I wonder still how that request would have been received. Probably not well.
I’m in this funk, and my mind drifts again to that drunk asshole that’s probably giving my sister or some hapless stranger a drunken ear full. In this situation, he would have been gone nearly before sunrise. Fishing, drinking, driving aimlessly, or whatever his fancy. I don’t remember him doing much as a family. I want to be alone. I get it. The family thing gets to a guy sometimes. Especially a guy that’s well enough alone.
At some point in the day, Kim said something optimistic about next year’s father’s day. Really? I had all of $6 to blow at Goodwill when my son’s birthday came around. I was broke for Mother’s Day. I’ll be even more broke and bracing for trying to dodge another 72 hour notice, or worse, for my birthday. It’s well over halfway through June, and not a single bill has been paid aside from phone bills. Thank god for Boost and their $35 flat rate.
Why? Why is this happening? I see things all over the place contributing to our downfall. If I pick at these things, it seems like I’m being a jerk. If I don’t, they keep tripping us up. Even things that have been addressed keep happening.
Kim tells me she’s sick of living like this. So am I. What the funk am I supposed to do? How do we go from planning and failing to meet our needs to planning and finding success? It’s not that our plans are faulty. Simply that when push comes to shove, everybody would rather jump ship than see them through.
I miss being the kind of broke I was as a single guy. You know the kind? The kind of broke that comes from having paid all your bills and having nothing left. I don’t know how to pick my family up to that kind of broke, and every holiday that comes around reminds me of how hopelessly broke and still on the verge of homelessness we are.
We have been grasping for all the intervention and social help we can. It’s run out and we are still no closer to floating. What can I do? All I have left is to keep a record of all our failures and point them out, which usually comes to explosive outcomes from opposing sides of a finger.
I got nothin’. Any ideas out there?